Footprints
by Distant Glory
Summary: Some people enter our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same. Slight Saïx/Larxene. AU.


Rated for Larxene's mouth and bizarre choice of conversation topics.

**Disclaimer:** You must be crazy if you think I own Kingdom Hearts. Believe me, you'd know if I was in charge.

**Footprints**

"_Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same." - __Anonymous_

Larxene used to be a check-out chick, but her employers had swiftly realized that she was not cut out for the job. With her strange hairstyle, sarcastic speeches and mocking expression, she radiated an aura of what one of her fellow employees called 'badass-ness', and it intimidated enough people for her check-out aisle to be consistently empty. And because her manager didn't want to pay her a wage for doing nothing but standing around and glaring at everyone, he shifted her to stacking shelves.

Naturally, this didn't sit too well with Larxene, but there wasn't much she could do about it – she needed the money. And at least most people left her alone when she was arranging cans and boxes into neat rows.

"Excuse me." She ignored the voice behind her, and continued to arrange the boxes of corn flakes in patterns – _upside-down, right-side up, upside-down, right-side up..._ This was one thing that she encountered every so often – people who mistakenly believed that because she was a shelf-stacker, she would direct them to everything that they couldn't be bothered to find themselves. "Excuse me," repeated the voice, a little louder.

"Look, buddy," she said, swinging towards the person. "I'm not a guide. There are signs in big letters hanging from the roof that tell you what's in each aisle – read them, and stop bothering me."

One of the strangest-looking men she'd ever seen arched a single blue eyebrow and said, calmly, "Actually, I thought you might like to know that your underpants are showing."

* * *

"Your behavior shames this store," said the manager sternly, glaring at the sullen woman in front of him. Larxene, crossing her arms, glared right back – after being told that her panties were showing by a complete stranger in the middle of a crowded aisle, she was in no angelic mood. "It's bad enough that you used inappropriate language to describe a customer – " Larxene shifted, and the manager went on pointedly, "—but you attacked him without provocation, inflicting injury." 

"No provocation?" yelped Larxene, startled out of her self-imposed silence. "The man told me my underpants were showing in the middle of a crowded store!"

"I would think that was your own fault," said Mr. Leonhart mercilessly, indicating Larxene's shirt, which was a size smaller than it should have been, revealing a good inch of her frilly knickers over her pants. "We will be lucky if the man does not sue."

"I only gave him a black eye," muttered Larxene.

"We were also fortunate that the man appeared to be proficient in some kind of martial art," the manager said coldly. "Since this means that he was able to counter your unprovoked attack."

"Unprovoked, my foot."

Mr. Leonhart sighed. "Larxene, you're fired."

"I know, I know," snapped the blonde, standing and swaggering out of the office.

* * *

Axel snorted with laughter, nearly exhaling his beer through his nose in his struggle to reign the sound in. "Idiot," he managed, once he had managed to swallow his mouthful of alcohol. "He must be new – everyone in this town knows to avoid you at all costs." 

"Except you," pointed out the blonde, taking a swig of her own drink. The redhead winked at her, green eyes dancing with mischief.

"Only because you're too intoxicating to stay away from."

"Shut it, Axel," snapped Larxene, glaring at him over the rim of her mug. "I'm not in the mood for this tonight."

The man gave a melodramatic sigh, slumping not only his shoulders but his whole upper body. "Then all hope is lost to me," he lamented dramatically

Larxene rolled her eyes and gave her friend a solid cuff. "You never had a hope to begin with," she informed him. "I'm _way_ out of your league."

The redhead gave one of his maverick grins. "I'll bring you around, eventually," he said confidently.

"Sure," said the blonde, sarcastically, taking another swig of her drink.

* * *

She left the bar an hour or so later, her motor functions only slightly inhibited by the alcohol in her system. Axel had opted to stay; the last Larxene had seen of him, he had been trying to drunkenly chat up a younger blonde man, who had seemed both amused and irritated by the redhead's inebriated antics. Larxene herself had been hit on by Marluxia, the man who ran the local florist – she had only allowed this because there was the possibility that he would offer her a job if she pretended and/or learned to like him. Certainly he was attractive, despite the peculiar color of his hair. 

She pushed past three older teenagers, who were laughing and eating ice cream (why they were eating ice cream at eleven o'clock at night was beyond Larxene, but she'd never been a fan of sweet things, anyway) as she trekked up a steep grassy hill just outside town. Why she was going there was surrounded by a kind of haze, but maybe the view would be nice…

Unfortunately (or not) the crest of the hill was occupied.

The man from the store stared at her, starting to his feet as though ready to run away from her...or maybe to her? It was hard to tell, right now.

"Huh. You," she managed, taking two more steps forward and then dropping to the ground to stare out at the town lighted up below them. She gave him an appraising look through half-closed eyes. "You know, you don't look as bruised as I thought you would."

The man sat back down carefully, watching her warily. He did not reply.

She contemplated this. "You know, what you said back at the store was pretty funny, really," she said.

He raised that eyebrow again, contorting the X-shaped scar on his forehead. "Since you attacked me and called me a motherfucking son of a bitch, I didn't think that you found it amusing."

She flapped a hand at him, as if to say '_details, details_'. "You see," she said, leaning towards him confidentially. "Normally, I'm a bitch. And bitches don't like to look silly. But right not, I'm not being a bitch, so I don't mind laughing a bit." And she giggled unsteadily.

"You're drunk." It was a statement, not a question.

"Tipsy," she corrected.

"No, I think you're plastered," he replied, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Though you hold your alcohol better than any woman I've seen."

"Lotsa practice," she said, nodding. "Comes of hanging around Axel. Likes to have a couple on Fridays. Or whenever he has an excuse." She leaned towards him again. "It was Axel's fault, you know. He shrank my shirt for a joke. Normally you wouldn't be able to see my panties even if they were over my pants." She tilted her head. "Did you like them?"

"What, your panties?" asked the man, raising that eyebrow again and looking amused.

"Yeah."

"You need input of opinion on your panties." His deadpan tone was completely compromised by the fact that he was trying to hold back laughter.

"'Course," said Larxene matter-of-factly.

"They were very nice," said the stranger. "But I don't think that frills are very appropriate for you."

"Thought not," she said, thoughtfully. "Do you think a G-string would look better?"

"You're asking a total stranger for opinions on your lingerie."

She thought about that statement. "You're right. Shouldn't. Maybe you're some kind of pervert."

If the man rolled his eyes, she didn't see it in the darkness. "Can't argue with that logic," he muttered.

They sat in silence for five minutes or so. "The stars are so pretty," said Larxene finally.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?" murmured the stranger.

"Don't tell anyone I like to stargaze," said the blonde calmly, as though this man was her most trusted confidant. "It would wreck my reputation."

"My lips are sealed," the man assured her absently.

"I like storms better, though," she continued. "All the lightning… So much power."

Somehow, the man didn't think that she meant electricity. "I prefer it when I can see the moon," he said softly. "But mostly, I just like the sky."

"Your hair's the same color as the sky at twilight, you know," remarked Larxene seriously. "I noticed."

"Oh?" he turned to her. "And what else did you notice, oh savage nymph?"

He'd said something important just then, but she couldn't think, for the life of her, what it was.

"Well, you've got yellow eyes," she said thoughtfully. "They're pretty unusual. And you have a big X on your forehead – how'd you get that, anyway?"

"By being young and stupid."

"Huh. Well, I've heard those are curable conditions."

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You are a very strange woman," he observed, finally.

"I like being strange," she said. "Well, my kind of strange, anyway. People don't bother you as much." She thought for a long moment. "'Cept you, of course."

The man with gold eyes smiled slightly.

The world, Larxene thought, seemed to be fading away. The colors around her were blurring together, the sounds muted and fuzzy. The only thing she could seem to lock on to was the bright yellow eyes of her companion and the soft sound of his voice, though she couldn't quite make out the words. And then it was too much trouble to hold on even to that…

She thought she heard a sharp _snick_, like a door closing. But then it became a higher-pitched sound, repetitive and much more annoying. Through the agonizing pain in her head, she groped around on her bedside table and slammed her hand down on the alarm clock. She heard a protesting crack from the plastic casing, and cursed eloquently, face buried in her pillow.

She had to replace the alarm clock, in the end.

* * *

It was three weeks before she was able to secure another job. Tales of her attack on a customer had spread quickly through town, making potential employers slam the door in her face before she even had the chance to try her intimidation tactics. Eventually, though, she found a tiny store in a remote corner of the city, run by a man named Xemnas, who was less picky about who worked for him. 

On the first day of her new job, she carefully adjusted her pants, smiling to herself at the hazy memories of a drunken conversation, and went to stack the shelves. It wasn't long before she was approached by one of the customers.

"Excuse me, miss," said the boy, looking like he was going to chicken out at any second. He kept shooting frantic glances at the end of the aisle. "But…" His next words were all strung together. "_Yourunderpantsareshowing!_"

Larxene twisted around to glance at the bright blue G-string showing over her pants, and pursed her lips thoughtfully. Then she turned back to the boy.

"We'll deal with question of why you were looking at my ass later," she said. "Tell me, what do you think?"

**End.**

* * *

I wrote this last July, and dug it up from the hard drive of my broken laptop just recently. I was glancing over it today and realized that most of it actually held up. So I spent my free time (re. my Software Development class) rewriting and editing. I'm pretty satisfied with the result. 

The original was inspired by the quote at the top, which I encountered on a poster at my counselor's. I know that at some point my friend Kaze (TrueBlueOtaku) and I were swapping this back and forth. Problem is, I can't remember which parts were mine and which parts were hers. So just assume that this was a co-written work, okay? And go check Kaze's profile out, because she is a wonderful writer.

Reviews would be appreciated!

ReadingChick


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